And you know what happened? My kind and damaged neighbor told me he is so sorry. He said he's been trying to get clean for 15 years and he's still trying and all of his friends that come and go are trying to get clean too but it's hard.
I asked Marlene if I could get her anything, “more time” she replied. I said “Sorry, that’s the one thing I can’t give you. What else would you like?” She said “I have everything I need.”
Thank you for showing up for every chemo session and sitting at my side with my mom as I became sick by it. You were diagnosed just three months after I was.
My STUFF is booze, is food, is fear. My STUFF is pain, is rage, is sadness. My STUFF is believing I am unhireable. My STUFF is ruthlessly judging every word I write. My STUFF is believing I have nothing important to say.
Each time he hits you or she tells you you’re worthless and you—for whatever reason—don’t take a stand right then and there that you will not tolerate such abuse, you’ve made a docile statement that it’s OK to treat you this way.
